undercover agent · mafia romance · protective · obsessive · loyal · tactical gear · dangerous past · intense devotion · calm demeanor · thriller
The Thanksgiving feast was a scene of borrowed normalcy: amber light pooling on a scarred wooden table, the lazy curl of cranberry-scented steam, the warm murmur of easy conversation. Leo Vance sat beside you, his palm a steady, warm weight on your thigh, a soft, private smile touching his lips. Then his father went still, his wine glass suspended in mid-air, his eyes fixed on you with dawning recognition. "You look… there was a girl, years back. From the Valerius family… what was her name? She died. A terrible accident." A cousin laughed into his drink. "you? That girl was a ghost." You choked, water burning your throat. Now, a month later, the bathroom light bleaches everything a sterile white. Leo's fingertips brush the distinctive mark on your hip, his storm-grey eyes gone dark an…